Steering the Ship
June 21, 2017 In Babies & Toddlers Childhood No Comment

For the month of June, Kindred Mom is covering the following topics: Combating Loneliness and Nutrition Challenges as well as some of our Core Themes. 

If you haven’t listened yet, we’d love for you to check out the new Kindred Mom Podcast and please leave us a review on iTunes! Also, read about our Summer Connection Groups and think about how you might reach out to mamas near you for intentional time together this summer!

I am pulling my yoga pants up over my 8 week postpartum belly when I hear the milk cup hit the floor. “Sorry Mama!” my toddler yells from the kitchen. I finish getting dressed and walk out to the kitchen to see my son still hasn’t eaten a bite of his eggs. I bend down to retrieve the sippy cup and wipe the spilled milk off the floor. Then I ask my son for what seems like the hundredth time to please eat his breakfast so we can go for a walk.

As I turn to leave the kitchen I look down to see my two cats sitting by their food bowls looking up at me with hungry eyes. Yet again I have forgotten to feed them in the morning rush of trying to get two kids and myself out the door. I quickly get their food out of the cabinet and scoop food into each of their bowls.

I am finally on my way to put on a bit of mascara and pull my hair up in a ponytail when my baby starts to fuss. I fed her, changed her and dressed her just minutes before, but as I look down I can see that she has spit up on her fresh outfit. Sigh.

I scoop my sweet girl up, gave her some pats on the back and then set her down in the bouncer in an attempt to buy a few precious minutes to pull myself together. Before exiting the kitchen, I catch a glimpse of my son putting his fork down his shirt, eggs growing cold on his plate. I take a deep breath and say “Buddy, please eat your eggs so we can go for a walk.”

Mascara swiped. Hair pulled back. Baby changed. Toddler dressed. Teeth brushed. Shoes put on. Water bottles filled. Snack poured. Sun hats found. By the time we are (finally!) ready to go, I feel like I’ve run a marathon.

When trying to get out the door with little kids I often imagine myself as the captain of the ship trying desperately to steer us in one direction…out of the house!!! Even in my attempts to prepare ahead and plan enough time, these little people seem to plan a mutiny every time. In reality, they are blissfully unaware of things like clocks and friends waiting at the park and how hard mama is working to get them out the door. Some days I want to abandon ship, it would be so much easier to stay home after all. But I know if I can manage to stay the course and get to the car, I’ll be glad I persevered.

Eventually we do make it to the car and head towards the park. By the time I’m pulling in the parking lot I can see my friend waiting for us. I park and start putting together the stroller and unloading the kids out of the car. I feel like a hot mess. I feel terrible for running late and am beating myself up. Then I look up and see my friend walking towards me with a warm smile on her face. She sees me struggling to assemble my stroller and bends down to help and says “I’ve got you!” Those heartfelt words make me want to burst into a puddle of tears. The marathon is over, my friend has welcomed me with open arms, and the stress of the morning slowly rolls away as we begin our walk to the park. My heart fills with gratitude for dear friends like my friend Natalie, who meet me in the trenches of motherhood and love and accept me right where I am at.

 Sarah Allard is thankful to be experiencing the joy of motherhood after journeying through years of infertility. She is married to her highschool sweetheart and together they are raising their two children in Seattle. Sarah is passionate about hospitality, encouraging other mamas, and slowing down to appreciate God’s daily grace. She is a fair weather blogger at www.thelittledove.com and is often on Instagram.


What Gives Her Away
June 19, 2017 In Soul Care for Moms 1 Comment

For the month of June, Kindred Mom is covering the following topics: Combating Loneliness and Nutrition Challenges as well as some of our Core Themes. 

If you haven’t listened yet, we’d love for you to check out the new Kindred Mom Podcast and please leave us a review on iTunes! Also, read about our Summer Connection Groups and think about how you might reach out to mamas near you for intentional time together this summer!

Elyse was four when she first showed us how brave she was—and what mattered enough to bring that bravery out. We’d moved, pulling into the driveway at a new house after dark on a Sunday night and popping out for a pre-school visit at nine the very next morning. During our tour she cast clandestine glances at the other children and when they invited her to stay for their Valentine’s Day party, she smiled and took a chair at their table.

It was her smile that gave her away.

Elyse is known for her smile. It’s ready and open and real. But not that day. That day it was manufactured and careful and maybe a little bit hopeful.

Thirteen years and another move later, we watched as the landscape of her face gradually flattened from its gentle contours into the hard line of a midwestern highway. Her smile gave her away again. It was gone. I knew why, and that we had to act because when my own smile had faded away a few years before, it was action that saved me.


I’d been lonely. Devastatingly so. We’d moved again, this time to a place where I found myself surrounded by people who called me friend but hadn’t made room for real relationship. Without companionship, I lost hope and withered away spiritually, emotionally, and physically, enduring rather than enjoying my life. So when I stepped out of the shower one morning—already weary and ready for the day to be done—and turned on a random podcast, I expected diversion. What I got was direction: There are friends who need you and friends who you need. If you need a friend, go out and find one. It sounded like a simple solution, but it was new to me.

In our previous communities, friendships—both mine and my family’s—had developed organically. They grew slowly, over time, and blossomed into companionable, sustaining relationships. I’d naturally made the friends that I needed and been a friend that others needed. However, life in our new community wasn’t like where we’d lived before. The thought that I’d have to go out in search of a friend because I was in such dire need of companionship wasn’t simply new–it was foreign. It felt humbling and scary and, after years of believing friendship would happen the old fashioned way, it felt hopeless. But I was in trouble. I knew it. And I did what had to be done.

I identified a couple of  women I knew but didn’t know well, acquaintances who liked conversation and looked like they might have some room in their lives for someone in need of a friend. I invited them for coffee dates and play dates and book studies. I initiated, even though it was uncomfortable.

So when I looked at my daughter and saw a flat line instead of a smile, I recognized the source and I understood its gravity. She was two years younger than most of her friends. After bidding them farewell when they headed off to college, she surveyed her life and found herself alone. We aren’t meant to be alone. Kids aren’t. Moms aren’t. And neither are dads. So we acted, not only on Elyse’s behalf but on our family’s. We didn’t want either of our girls to get used to living lonely and we wanted to stop living that way ourselves.

We talked about the state of our friendships. We acknowledged the fact that we move in a small circle in a small town. We decided to focus our family’s energy on combating loneliness by working to foster better relationships both inside and outside our home.

We chose the right activities for us. For Elyse, that meant finding a place to connect with others in a way she found meaningful, even though it meant taking her to another town. For me, it meant forgoing some of the large group gatherings so prevalent in our community and inviting women for one-on-one conversation.

We encouraged—some might say pushed—Elyse to reach out. We practiced hospitality. Elyse and her younger sister hosted gatherings for the girls they were already acquainted with so they could begin to learn the fine arts of initiating, planning, and inviting.

Eight months later, things have changed. It hasn’t been easy. It’s been time consuming and humbling and scary, but just like the visit to her new preschool nearly ten years before, the drive for companionship compelled Elyse to take a place at the table. Interactions with new friends and deepening friendships with acquaintances have returned her smile and restored her joy. It’s graduation season again and she’s shed some tears because some of these new friends will be moving away. But I know she’ll be okay. She has hope.

It’s her smile that gives her away.

Natalie Ogbourne is fascinated by the roads we wander and the stories they tell. A midwest-dwelling wife and mom, she’s perpetually on the hunt for a skirt that will stand up to the trail because she loves the places they take us and everything they give to think about along the way. You can find her at her blog and on Instagram, where she offers encouragement to pause, ponder the path, and press on. 


My Son, the Pineapple
June 16, 2017 In Babies & Toddlers Health & Nutrition 1 Comment

For the month of June, Kindred Mom is covering the following topics: Combating Loneliness and Nutrition Challenges as well as some of our Core Themes. 

If you haven’t listened yet, we’d love for you to check out the new Kindred Mom Podcast and please leave us a review on iTunes! Also, read about our Summer Connection Groups and think about how you might reach out to mamas near you for intentional time together this summer!

Meet my son, the pineapple.

It’s just about the only thing he eats.

My boy, who was so big in the womb that he had to be air-lifted out of it, is now my house’s finickiest eater. He’s a healthy weight, thanks to the boulder-thick thighs he inherited from me. He wraps himself around me with a python’s intensity because he dreads being fed as much as I dread feeding him. It’s especially tough on my husband. He spends an hour after work each week trolling the grocery aisles, hoping that this would be the night that our little citrus-monger would eat a chicken nugget, chocolate chip waffle, or some thin cut French fries. The endgame stays the same. The chicken nuggets go cold on their tray, the waffle wedges wait while my son doodles in the maple syrup, and the fries are foregone for his own fingertips as he prods a pile of ranch dressing, smearing it across his cheek and finally into his mouth. That’s when he yells for his fruit cup or Greek yogurt. My husband and I have no choice but to appease the little dictator, anything to bring the meal madness to an end.

As he savors the cold, creamy yogurt, I think back to last Easter, when we first learned of his peanut allergy. My son was 16 months old at the time with no previous allergic reactions. My husband thought nothing of it when he gave my son a small piece of a chocolate-covered peanut butter egg. My son enjoyed it and asked for more. Thankfully, by the time he did, my husband already eaten the rest for himself. (Really, who can resist a Reese’s?!) So we got my son back home between family celebrations and put him down for a nap. Within an hour, he woke up screaming, “Mommy, Daddy!” and we raced upstairs, sure that he’d had a bad dream. Nothing could have prepared us for what awaited when we turned on the light. My son’s face was peppered in red hives and both of his eyes were nearly swollen shut. My husband cradled our boy and I frantically our pediatrician’s “Ask a Nurse” line.

“Is he able to breathe?” spoke the faceless nurse. I nervously confirmed – yes he could breathe. By that time, my husband had force-fed him some Benadryl. As long as he was breathing normally, we did not need to go the ER. She advised us to follow up with our pediatrician on Monday but it sounded like an allergic reaction to peanut butter.


I could devour peanut butter straight from the jar but I purposefully eschewed it during my pregnancy. Everything I’d read said that it could predispose babies to peanut allergies. I swore my OB said the same thing! When a blood test finally confirmed the diagnosis, our new allergist said that not exposing a young eater to peanuts could actually trigger an allergy. I didn’t know what to think, except that I’d failed my boy. Every kid eats peanut butter! What was he going to eat now? Was he ever going to grow out of this? Repeating his blood work in a year will tell us for sure, but more than likely, if he tests allergic next year, then he will carry the peanut allergy for the rest of his life.

The allergist gave us pamphlets explaining the different types of food allergies, enough to numb my brain, and a prescription for an Epi-Pen Junior. It broke my heart to give one to each grandmother, his primary caregivers during the workweek. “I hope I never have to use this,” my mother-in-law said. “If you do,” I told her, “you may as well call 911 for two ambulances because you’re going to need one for me!” I felt so totally defeated and worthless when it came to protecting my son.

A few weeks later, I noticed my dad casually finishing up a to-go order of Five Guys Burgers and Fries. He had his wrappers balled up in his fry carton and was slurping down a milkshake when I noticed another carton containing the shells of peanuts. My son was sitting at the other end of the table, intently watching Old MacDonald videos on You Tube, his arms still faint with initial red patches that took weeks to dissipate. I erupted, “What the hell are you doing with peanuts, Dad?!” I made Joan Crawford and the wire hangers look like kindergarten. “Calm down, hun; he’s fine.” Once I caught my breath and the blood pumped back to my face, I realized he was fine. I saw firsthand that my son could be exposed to peanuts without incident. (He was only in danger if he ingested them.)

I was relieved but we still had no idea what safe foods to feed him that he would actually eat. That’s when my husband discovered no-nut peanut and sunflower seed butter. They’re easy to spread with a smooth, mild taste and were right in our local grocery store. From the first night we tried them on crackers, my son loved it. We rejoiced at finally getting some protein into his limited diet. Of course, instead of using crackers, he decided to use his fingers for dipping sticks and tongue the butter off each one. But he was happy and so were we.

My son is wired to be the way that he is, never one to make things easy on his parents. He comes around on his own time, not on our time. Each day I learn to digest more of him – his ways, his charms, his quirks – and I realize it’s all a part of loving him; it’s all a part of letting him be a pineapple in a world full of nuts.

 Jeanne Gyr is a university academic advisor living in Baltimore, Maryland. She is a mom to two young toddlers, aged two and one, though her preferred child is her miniature labradoodle, Phillip. She credits her husband for the modicum of sanity in her world and believes that “Golden Girls” actress Bea Arthur is her spirit animal. She thanks you for reading, and hopefully, for laughing.


Loneliness: A Catalyst for Building Relationships
June 12, 2017 In Childhood Faith & Encouragement No Comment

For the month of June, Kindred Mom is covering the following topics: Combating Loneliness and Nutrition Challenges as well as some of our Core Themes. 

If you haven’t listened yet, we’d love for you to check out the new Kindred Mom Podcast and please leave us a review on iTunes! Also, read about our Summer Connection Groups and think about how you might reach out to mamas near you for intentional time together this summer!

His face crumpled when he realized he wasn’t going to the birthday party with his brother.

“But I never get invited to birthday parties,” he sniffed. With a start, I realized that he was right. It was April, and he hadn’t been invited to any school birthday parties this year. That old, familiar ache rose up in my chest. It had not bothered me much as a child, as my few friends were always enough for me. But as a mom, that ache grew in my heart for years. The pinching loneliness of not having friends, of not being invited, of being left out.

He wailed in my arms while I tried to hold my own broken pieces together. For his sake.

I often revisit those years, in my memories. After the babies were born, I went back to work at my church, part-time. Never there long enough to become friends with my coworkers, but always feeling the load of the work at home, keeping me tied down even on my free days. Never invited to the women’s group, at least not personally. Always rushing at work to get things done, leaving little time for lunchtime chatter. Never being brave enough to initiate anything of my own. Always feeling like an invisible soul, dutifully doing my work without being noticed. Looking back, it’s obvious to me that I was not as invisible as I felt, but nevertheless, the sense that I was slipping through life unseen was overwhelming.

My son and I moved over to the stairway to talk. Sitting in a shaft of light from the afternoon sun, I shared with him what had changed in my life.

(photo by hill smiley photography)

“When I am feeling lonely, I start looking around for someone else who looks lonely. There is always someone else who feels the same way. I start talking to them and I feel less lonely because I know that I am helping someone else.”

For an introvert, this act goes against everything in my nature. But even introverts get lonely for true connection. The best thing I have ever done was join the women’s Bible study on Wednesday mornings at my church. It has been a stretch for me, and it has been very hard to get out the door some weeks.

The women attending the group were all ones I wanted to get to know, but early on it felt like I had an impossible barrier to hurdle. While I knew most of their children from my work as the Children’s Ministry Director, I didn’t know anything about my peers, the other moms. The thought of getting to know them was daunting, because friendship doesn’t form in a single conversation.

Later, it was hard to go because some weeks parenting and working is overwhelming and I couldn’t even keep up with making dinner, never mind going to Bible study. It was those days that being a group leader was a hidden blessing: I had to go. They expected me.

Three years later, I have developed friendships. It took many conversations and trips to McDonalds after Bible study, but they are there. I am no longer lonely.

“See,” I told my boy, “when we look for others to help, we start to feel better. It’s hard to ask someone if they want to play, but when you are brave enough to do that, you might make a true friend in the process.”

He nodded, then hopped up to go play again. My heart still hurt for him, but I know this will be better for him in the long run. Better to be the one initiating friendships and spreading love, because that is a skill worth cultivating.

Being able to see the beauty in others is a Christ-like quality that brings a little of His healing into our world, a little of His light into the darkness. He created that lonely ache in our hearts because it drives us into communion with others and communion with Him. If we let it, that ache of loneliness can become a catalyst for building relationships, both as moms and as kids.

Christie Thomas is the mom of 3 boys who love stories and wife of an educator (who doubles as her personal key-finder). She is the Director of Children’s Ministry at her church, a family faith blogger, and the author of a devotional book for families with busy little ones. To connect with Christie or to snag her 3 free “Stories to Stir the Soul of Your Kids”, pop over to her website!

Website: www.christiethomaswriter.com, IG:www.instagram.com/christie.thomas.writer,
Facebook:www.facebook.com/christiethomasauthor


Start Your Own Summer Connection Group
June 9, 2017 In Childhood News No Comment

If you haven’t listened yet, we’d love for you to check out the new Kindred Mom Podcast and please leave us a review on iTunes! Episode 2 about Building Community might be of particular interest in conjunction with this post!

I hugged his preschool teacher hard this morning. It’s been a good year. I have seen my son mature, learn, and grow. It has flown by so fast. I can’t even believe he’ll be in Kindergarten next year. How do you wrap up a school year in one hug? I nearly was in tears as my 5-year-old son and I walked away from his preschool classroom, me holding his tiny hand tightly as if holding more tightly would stop time.

“What happens now?” he said curiously.

“Well, we have summer!” I responded cheerfully.

His little face contorted into a sweet mixture of wonder and confusion as he spat out, “What’s THAT?”

What a good question. What exactly IS summer? Disrupted schedules? Maybe. Jammies-all-morning? Yes, please! Daylight until 9pm and flexible house rules…ok, I’ll take it. However, one thing I have felt summer brings is the disconnect from seeing our friends due to vacations, summer camps, and the general lack of planning on my part!

Can I get an AMEN!?

(Summer thoughts from Lynne Patti)


This summer, the Kindred Mom team would like to offer up a way that you can still see your friends and even your kids’ friends throughout the summer. We are buzzing about our Summer Connection Groups for mamas and their kids! This is a chance for you to intentionally open up your home to your friends in order to press into community during the sometimes lonely, sometimes challenging weeks of summer.

Hosting a group doesn’t have to be stressful or all-consuming. The point really is to be intentional about drawing your girlfriends or mamas that may be new to your area (or new to motherhood in general!) in to some things you might already be interested in doing this summer. As a team, we have generated some ideas for you, if you find them helpful in your own Summer Connection Group planning.

What does a summer connection group look like?

There are no hard and fast rules! Your group can reflect your personality and desires. Different members of our team are tackling this in a few different ways.

One of our team members is hostessing a daytime “Coffee Hour” that is open for mamas and their littles. The time is centered around an activity for the kids and a chance for the moms to chat and connect (and drink ALL THE COFFEE). She has planned out 8 weeks of simple activities for the kids (skip down to the bottom of this post to see a few of her suggestions), and she provides coffee and tea, and asks the mamas who join for the day to bring a snack to share with the group to keep it manageable for herself.

If a quieter, kid-free evening sounds more appealing to you, curate your invite list and ask your friends to each bring something sweet to share. You can’t go wrong with a cheese platter and a few desserts. Center the evening around asking each other questions and getting to know each mama present. You could go through a book together (we highly recommend Shauna Niequist’s book, “Bread and Wine”) or you can simply let the evening breathe with laughter and wine. This is a wonderful way to deepen relationships with dear friends, new and old.

If you’re not sure about hosting in your home, you can set some dates/times for a nearby park (we recommend a weekly rhythm—same day/time) so people can plan ahead to join you. One of our team members is doing things two days a week, one day meeting friends at the zoo, another day meeting friends at a park for the kids to play and the moms to chat. Bring a lunch and some sunscreen, and have a blast together! You may be interested in the Summer Survival Kit we shared recently (scroll to the bottom of the linked post for a list of great summer gear).

The ultimate goal is that the mamas who attend would feel seen, loved, and heard.

However you structure a group, we want to encourage you to reach out this summer and draw your mama-community in close. We cannot do this mothering gig alone! Connection with other moms can be the difference between surviving and thriving this summer.

Five ways to make your Summer Connection Group great:

1) Set firm dates/times —Decide what kind of group appeals to you (daytime with kids, evening with moms, weekly or selected dates, at your home or at another location)

2) Communicate with friends (email your friends, send out an Evite, or start a private Facebook group to communicate about what you have going on)

3) Have available basic refreshments and don’t be afraid to ask to others to bring things (It’s great if you can let people know what you’re providing and let them know what they can bring to share with the group)

4) Decide on some activities to include — If you’re planning a backyard water-play day, most mamas will want to know that in advance so they can bring the appropriate gear. Roughly planning out activities will help keep everyone on the same page.

5) Be Flexible—Summer is a tough time to plan things if you’re hoping that everyone will be there each week. If you can make peace with the fact that the group will be different week to week because of vacations and other summer commitments, you can enjoy the time with whomever does arrive for the fun.

Some general tips:

Consider co-hosting your group with someone. This will ensure you always have at least one person there to spend time with even if the others can’t make it!

Set up the night before if you have a daytime group. Leaving the details until the last minute can be stressful, but if you can have your activities ready ahead of time, it can be a lot more relaxed as people arrive.

Think about your space and where people will gather.

Think about using disposable cups and paper plates to make cleanup easy.

Add a personalized touch to welcome the mamas who come. Set out some fresh flowers, use your grandmother’s lovely teapot or serving dishes, put up a banner—anything that brings a special element into your gathering.

Be sure to introduce people as they arrive so that new people feel welcome. Name tags are a nice touch if you know your guests don’t know each other well!

Here are some backyard activities you might consider for your daytime group:

~For younger kids~

Sidewalk chalk
Make sailboats with yogurt cups (and play with them in water!)
Create a sensory table with dirt and “bugs” or have each child bring a car to “wash”
Water balloon fun
Painting on a deck or sidewalk with water and big paint brushes
Bubbles

~For older kids~

Painting rocks
Marshmallow toothpick tower creations
Have the kids make a fruit salad (wash and chop with a butter knife)
Make animal creations out of fruit and toothpicks
Ice cream sundae bar (each guest brings toppings)
String together pasta necklaces

Obviously, Pinterest also has endless ideas! These are just a few to get you thinking.

However you put your group together, please tell us about what you’re doing! You can post on instagram and use the #kindredmom hashtag (or tag us directly!) or feel free to join our private Facebook group and share your Summer Connection Group shenanigans there! Thanks for joining in!

**This post contains affiliate links**
(Special thanks to Sarah Allard for the original idea to gather women together in this capacity!)

   


Two Bites of Humble Pie
June 8, 2017 In Babies & Toddlers Health & Nutrition 2 Comments

For the month of June, Kindred Mom is covering the following topics: Combating Loneliness and Nutrition Challenges as well as some of our Core Themes. The deadline to submit essays for the upcoming July Topics (Family Culture & Connection, Simplicity, and Infertility & Secondary Infertility) is just a few days away (June 10th)! 

If you haven’t listened yet, we’d love for you to check out the new Kindred Mom Podcast and please leave us a review on iTunes! 

 

I should have known better.

I tried to sneak something into the recycling bin without my toddler’s notice. I try this maneuver often, but my success rate is abysmal. I’ve done it with Halloween candy and preschool crafts, coloring sheets from church and Happy Meal toys. On this particular occasion, it was a book.

Earlier that morning, we trekked out to an early childhood education fair. We were on the hunt for a preschool for our son, Ian, to enter that fall. When we entered the gymnasium, a woman at the registration table handed me a reusable grocery bag stamped with the school district’s logo and stuffed with promotional materials. Among them was a paperback book about the “My Plate” program. You know the one, right? It replaced the food pyramid I grew up with; a round plate is divided into colored sections, each of which represents a food group. It’s a visual that always makes me think, “Crap. I haven’t eaten enough vegetables today. Or ever.”

In this book, a mother cat encourages her son and daughter to go on a scavenger hunt for foods from each food group. The little girl cat, Anna, is nervous to try these unfamiliar foods, but her mom and brother admonish her to try just two bites. Two bites from each food group, they say, will land her in the “Two Bite Club.” Anna’s eagerness to be in included in the Two Bite Club is equivalent to how I would have felt to be in the Mickey Mouse Club circa 1994.

I stood in the kitchen, flipping through the pages. I imagined some poor intern at the Department of Agriculture tasked with creating this book. What good would this cheesy, pedantic story do for my picky eater, whose stubbornness manifests itself most prominently at the kitchen table? Nothing, I concluded, and pitched it into the recycling bin.

Mealtimes with Ian have been a struggle since the first time we tried to introduce baby cereal. He comes by this pickiness naturally, because I am certainly not a “foodie” and my husband’s pickiness is the stuff of legend in his family. His Uncle David tells a story of wrestling with him on Grandma Shannon’s dining room floor, trying to force him to swallow one bite of rice. My husband won that round. And because the proverbial apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, Ian has been winning the food battles too. We don’t literally wrestle, but many tears have been shed around our kitchen table (only some of them were Ian’s).

I guess I didn’t hide the book well enough because a few hours later, Ian came up behind me and proclaimed, “Read this, Mama!” I turned to find Ian’s blue eyes and that flimsy purple book staring back at me. Despite my best efforts at distraction and sleight of hand, I read it aloud approximately one million times over the next several days.

Children’s books tend to work their way under my skin and into my brain just like the catchiest pop song. At dinner just a few days later, I heard myself saying, “Ian, you can be in the Two Bite Club! Just two bites of that broccoli, and you’re in!” Lo and behold, he took two bites. And then a few more. Abra Cadabra! The broccoli had vanished from his plate.

The next day at snack time, he was begging for a second helping of pretzels.

“How about strawberries?” I said.

“Strawberries are not a snack!” he protested.

“Well, you already had enough to eat from the grain group today. You need a fruit or a vegetable.” Did I just quote that book again?

“Ok.”

Record scratch. Wait, what? I quoted that book again, and it worked? Again?

I couldn’t believe it. I had finally broken through the wall of my son’s pickiness, and I had that stupid book to thank for it. I was eating a big, giant piece of humble pie. (In which food group does humble pie belong? Can I call it a vegetable?)

We went on like this for weeks. When unsure about something on his plate, Ian could now be convinced to take two bites. Like Anna the Cat, he’d proclaim with surprise, “I like it!” and gobble it up. Needless to say, at this point, I could have been running seminars and writing parenting books. (I mean, I’m a writer. Surely I could do better than the Anna the Cat story, right? Right.) Ian’s sudden willingness to try new foods was a like shot in the arm; it buoyed me in all areas of my motherhood, but especially in the kitchen. Suddenly, I was winning the dinnertime wrestling match.

So, there we were a few weeks later at lunch time. Chicken nuggets and broccoli, warm from the microwave, with some apple slices on the side. (I do what I can. Mom Cat never really spelled out the recipes.) Shocked–and a bit satisfied–I watched Ian work his way around that plate.

“Ok, Mom!” he said. “I ate the vegetable group!”

“Great job, buddy,” I replied, more proud of my parenting than of his risk-taking. And then, Ian looked at me with the biggest smile, and in all seriousness, made a proclamation:

“Now, I need something from the cookie group.”

Somebody pass the humble pie.

 Lindsey is a writer, reader, and mom who is slowly learning to trade perfectionism for freedom. A Florida-to-Michigan transplant, her faith and sense of purpose are shifting as she experiences seasons in the world and in her own life. Lindsey is also the co-founder of The Drafting Desk, a newsletter for anyone trying to pursue grace instead of perfection. You can find her on Instagram @lindseycornett. 


The Secret Places of Mothering
June 5, 2017 In Childhood Faith & Encouragement No Comment

For the month of June, Kindred Mom is covering the following topics: Combating Loneliness and Nutrition Challenges as well as some of our Core Themes. The deadline to submit essays for the upcoming July Topics (Family Culture & Connection, Simplicity, and Infertility & Secondary Infertility) is less than a week away (June 10th)! 

If you haven’t listened yet, we’d love for you to check out the new Kindred Mom Podcast and please leave us a review on iTunes! 

 

I’m in the deepest of sleep when I sense her in my room before I hear her. My four-year-old stands next to my pillow, in tears, explaining that she had a bad dream. She is wondering if she can please sleep in my bed?

We don’t have any hard and fast rules about this scenario- sometimes I say yes and sometimes I scoot them back to bed. This time though, this time maybe I was too tired to really think it through or maybe I just sensed that we needed each other, me as much as her.

Our king size bed is as big as can be, but she snuggles right up next to me and that’s how we fall asleep that night, two in the morning, side by side.

~

We’re playing outside, afternoon sun, the four of us, me pretending the clock isn’t ticking closer and closer to the dinner hour and I still haven’t a clue about what we’ll eat. The air is too perfect, the sun too kind, the breeze so gentle. They’re running around wild and free, neighborhood noises filling our ears, sidewalk chalk staining our fingertips.

My oldest had been playing down at a friends’ house and here she is, running up to me, tears streaming down her face.

I do the quick scan up and down to see if there’s blood anywhere–are you hurt? are you okay? is there blood? no? Okay then–and I begin to assess the true damage, this time to her heart, a much more difficult wound to mend. A friend said an unkind thing and my girl is still young enough to first run to me in her pain. I don’t want her to ever outgrow this instinct.

I pull her in close and get a little bit of the scenario of what happened. We sit on the couch, our legs wrapped up in each other, her nearly on my lap but not quite, and I begin to whisper into her ear all of the things I know about her that are true. You are brave, my dear one. You are strong. You are loved. You are kind. You are creative. You are adventurous and friendly and silly to boot.

Her heart unwinds, reminded of who she is, and off she scampers to play once again.

~

It’s been a long day, a hard one, and I just need to be done. I need them to put themselves to bed, quietly and kindly without a single whine. This, of course, is not how it goes.

On this day when I am at my end, tired and sad and a little bit scared, they become the very most difficult versions of themselves and I have no love to give.

I kiss them and go downstairs to the living room hardly ten seconds after saying goodnight and I hear them jumping off their beds. They are laughing and bouncing and having a full-on party not ten seconds after they promised me they would go to sleep.

Oh, no way. Not in my house.

Mama’s done.

I march upstairs, fling open their door and the look on my face must have stirred sheer terror because they launch themselves into their bed, covers over their head, trembling. I don’t remember everything I said, but I definitely growled “I’m so serious” about five times.

I close the door but stand by it for a few extra seconds to make sure they don’t start messing around again and hear the sisters whisper.

“Brennan?” calls out the four-year-old, “What just happened?”

The six-year-old responds: “Ellie, that wasn’t our mom. That was the mean mom. I don’t like that one.”

“Me either!”

And as tired as I am, I just cannot end it this way. I go in and crawl into their bed, pull them in close and say “Babies. Mommy is so sorry. Sometimes I’m so stressed and I’m so tired and I take it out on you. That’s not fair. Can we begin again tomorrow?”

They forgive me and hug me, ain’t no thing, because children are expert forgivers and I kiss their foreheads and they fall asleep- peacefully, this time.

~

 So much of mothering feels like it’s done in the secret places where no one else sees. We do it anyway– we gather them up close, whisper love and courage when they need it, love the hardest we know how and apologize when we miss the mark.

For these few stories of mine, I bet you have a thousand that haven’t been captured of you doing what you needed to do in that moment for your babies and whispering love and nailing this mothering thing. For these stories right here, I could tell of twenty others when I failed completely.

But as mamas, we love them always. As mamas, we do what we need to again and again and again even when we’re empty because that’s what love does. It’s easy to remember the ways we feel like we’ve missed the mark, but let’s choose to see the tiny moments of love that add up to build a life. Let’s see what we do well and let me remind you that you, my dear, are nailing this mothering thing.

Even when it doesn’t feel like it and even when you don’t get credit, you are doing a good job and they are so, so loved. I promise.

 Sarah Sandifer is a mama to three darling and rambunctious little girls. She is married to her college sweetheart who now serves as an Army Chaplain and is taking them on quite the grand adventure. Sarah’s great loves are the Colorado mountains, dark chocolate and coffee, though she would be a total mess without the grace of Jesus. You can find her thoughts on life, motherhood, and marriage at SarahSandifer.com  and she’s also on Instagram @SarahSandifer.


Chasing Rest
May 31, 2017 In Faith & Encouragement Home & Family 1 Comment

For the month of May, Kindred Mom is covering the following topics: Feeling Inadequate, Sleep-Rest-and-Rejuvenation, and Mental Health Awareness Month. We hope you’ll return to read the wonderful essays we have to share with you and cheer on the courageous mamas who have shared them.

If you haven’t listened yet, we’d love for you to check out the new Kindred Mom Podcast! 

 

One of my favorite places to go on a late summer night is Moravia Winery – just a short drive from our home in Fresno, California. Somehow even when it’s scorching outside, it’s a few degrees cooler out at the winery. My kids love to play wild and free with their friends on the pirate ship play structure. Some of the daddies play bocce ball.

We lounge on picnic blankets and share goodies. They often have a live band playing music and a food truck selling burritos or a vendor serving up fancy cupcakes. As the sun lies down for the evening, ribbons of color dance beyond the rows and rows of vines dripping with grapes.

Of course, if you drive out to this winery during the winter months, you will witness a different scene from the flourishing vines of late summer/early fall. Mysterious fog often seeps in late at night and early in the mornings. The vines are pruned back, standing stark against the winter sky. They have traded green leaves and lush grapes for gnarly and naked vines. This season in the vine’s life is called dormancy, the resting period before new growth.

Rest is necessary not just in the cycle of the grape’s life but also in our human lives. Rest refreshes the mind, body and spirit. And yet, our American culture lies to us about rest. We are led to believe: time is money; those who multitask best are the most productive; and there is no time for rest.

The Bible tells us just the opposite. In Matthew 11:28-30, Jesus leans in and shares these words with the crowd: “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.” Jesus speaks of a different kind of yoke. His yoke is made with grace, love and forgiveness – so different from the yokes we mamas often hoist up on our tired shoulders. Our yokes are too often marked by guilt, striving, and perfectionism.

I grew up in a house where we were constantly on the go. When I was in elementary school, my evenings were filled with piano lessons, soccer games, ballet and jazz classes, church youth group and more. As I entered junior high and high school, I added activities like newspaper, yearbook, Track & Field, and voice lessons. While I enjoyed all these activities, I remember we were always running, always pushing deadlines, always melting into bed exhausted. I am grateful for the many opportunities my parents gave me but sometimes I wonder if it also was an inadvertent training to chase busyness.

When I left home, I continued on this trajectory – filling my schedule with a myriad of activities and too often shunning rest. The Bible warns in Psalm 127:2 against this kind of pace:  “It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for he gives to his beloved sleep.” We are not built to burn the candle at both ends. When we are sleep-deprived, we lash out at our littles; we make rash decisions; we allow negative self-talk to creep into our mind minds and root deeply in our souls.

As mamas, we need to give ourselves permission to rest. Rest is the way we detox from the busyness and rejuvenate our souls. Rest is the place we connect with our Creator, who modeled for us what it means to rest. God didn’t need to create a day for rest. After all, He is the all-powerful God of the universe. He rested on the seventh day to show us the importance of a rhythm of rest.

There was a time when I felt like punching someone if they said the word “nap.” I was a mother of three kids under age 5 and getting them to sleep was my number one mom challenge.

I would find myself in these circles of women, and inevitably someone would offer up her perfect kid sleeping plan. She would talk about this one method, or this one routine, or this special music that would magically make her children nap. I would lower my eyes and exit the conversation, feeling like a failure again.

My husband and I tried all sorts of tricks to get our girls to nap. Just about the only thing that worked was putting them in the jogging stroller or car seat and driving them around town. I was grateful but that didn’t involve mama resting. I endured almost a decade when rest felt like this elusive dream, this thing people talked about that just wasn’t for me. If you’re a mama in that stage of life, hold on. Redemption is coming.

Now that my baby is 5 and my oldest is 10, we are creating new rhythms of rest in our home. This requires intentionality because rest is counter-cultural. We try to say no to more than we say yes to. We try to choose activities we can do as a family instead of driving in different directions every night of the week. We are taking back Sundays for naps, reading and playing outside.

Choosing to rest is challenging with three growing girls who are creative and ambitious.  They are wired like their mama, who loves to fill the calendar squares and jump into new opportunities too. Whenever I see our schedule is squeezed too tight or we are running from one activity to the next, I try to remind myself of the grape vines out at the winery in winter. A season of rest is important for growth. It’s a time when God does special work underground. Once the vines have rested, tiny buds of green appear in spring. And eventually, the vines are lush and heavy with fruit once again.

Dorina Lazo Gilmore lives in Fresno, California with her new husband Shawn and three daughters. She is a published children’s author, poet, journalist and blogs about chasing God’s glory through every day at www.DorinaGilmore.com. When she isn’t writing, you can find Dorina running marathons or in the kitchen creating a new recipe. Connect with her on Instagram.

 


No More Magic
May 29, 2017 In Childhood Soul Care for Moms 1 Comment

For the month of May, Kindred Mom is covering the following topics: Feeling Inadequate, Sleep-Rest-and-Rejuvenation, and Mental Health Awareness Month. We hope you’ll return to read the wonderful essays we have to share with you and cheer on the courageous mamas who have shared them.

If you haven’t listened yet, we’d love for you to check out the new Kindred Mom Podcast! 

The floor of my tiny old house creaks and groans underfoot which makes getting to the oasis I’ve been thirsty for all day, a bit of a Parkour obstacle course.  My children are finally in bed after an arduous day of breaking up preschool squabbles, hushing an inconsolable baby, and generally attempting to keep the house from falling apart.  The finish line to my day is within spitting distance but the floor may as well be covered with landmines.  My children—a sleeping three-headed monster that might be roused at the faintest sound–dragging me back to the land of active parenting I am so eager to put behind me.  I tiptoe into the bathroom, gingerly close the door, and turn off the light, murmuring a prayer under my breath. Please let them stay asleep.

I am empty.  I have no more magic, ingenuity or compassion. My last nerve is hanging on by a tattered little thread and I am thankful for the reprieve from being the solo commander of my household.

At last, it is night. I’ve successfully made it to the end of the day and to the bathroom–the last bastion of privacy, solace, and retreat that can be found in my little home–where the tiny upright shower promises to wash my stress down the drain.

I plant my flag here in this tiny closet-sized room, claiming this space and time as my desperately-needed sanctuary.  I pause on the dark side of the bathroom door and take what feels like the first giant breath I have had all day.  My shoulders relax as I subconsciously dismiss them from duty.  This is the fourth night this week I’ve sought refuge in this bathroom at the end of a long day.  Just me in the dark, a hot shower, and a humble little $12.99 candle that illuminates more about me as mother than I thought possible.

I wield a lighter and ignite the dormant candle as it occupies the coveted bit of real estate atop the toilet tank. It is nestled between home improvement magazines and a clock.  In an instant, a soft glow dances on the walls, transforming this tiny room into a spa-like retreat for an exhausted and depleted mother. I cast off the unseen hats: referee, teacher, chef, housekeeper, cheerleader, doctor, counselor. As I toss each one to the ground along with my garments, I become a little bit lighter. At the end, I am edited down to just me.  Not mom, not wife, just me.  I look at the simple little candle that is helping to set the mood of my restoration.

This candle is a metaphor for my recent experiences in motherhood; specifically trying to carry on like business-as-usual when there are just too few resources available to actually do a good job.

Like the candle, I am built to burn, lighting the way with love for my family.  Day after day I light my little flame to care for my family, to bolster their reserves even though it means depleting my own.  The dark ring of soot accumulated around the rim of the container deposited from hours of burning without a consistent fuel supply—I have that too—only my black ring looks like yelling at my kids because I am running on an empty tank.  I’ve got ashy chunks suspended under my waxy surface that testify to my lack of time to take care of myself.  I panic as I notice my energy stores are slipping swiftly down the sides of my jar and I fear that soon there will be nothing left to of me to give.

How does a mother fill the cavernous emptiness after pouring out every last bit she has to the ones she loves?

I realize, as I flicker an unsteady light, void of oxygen necessary for me to keep going, that no one will be able to see very well by the faint hobbling glow I am coughing out.  A candle needs a fuel source to produce light.  No wax, no light.  Mothering my little brood sucks up a lot of my fuel.  I cannot be a help to anyone if I have no reserve from which to draw.  If I am going to do a good job caring for the people I love, I have to keep an eye on how to fill up again.

As I step into the hot shower, I consider all of the hats I have left on the floor of my tiny oasis bathroom, and the water begins washing away all of the unseen heavy, scary, and ugly things that I have hidden away in my heart as I outwardly sing silly songs to my children.  With each droplet of water skittering off my body I heave a cathartic sigh.

This is so desperately hard.

My soul is embraced by the warm water and my limbs are invited to let go of all the tension they’ve carried. I am here to exchange angst for relief, exhaustion for rest. The needle on my proverbial gas gauge inches toward full as I stand in the water. I recognize my own grit, that I am built to do this work.  I can pick up the duties of motherhood each morning and set them down each night.  The fog lifts and I begin to see my world with clearer eyes.  I remember my children are not monsters, but three bright stars in my sky that mesmerize and delight me.

I dry myself off and put on fresh clean pajamas–a simple luxury that is not lost on me–and I am truly thankful for every little thing.  As I nestle my head into my downy pillow, I find I am grateful for these difficult days and deliciously restorative nights–for the clarity illuminated in darkness and for solitude that opens and fills my heart, that breathes on an ember renewing my strength to carry on.

 Jennifer Van Winkle lives in Seattle with her husband and three children (twin boys and a baby girl).  She is a teacher, musician, and currently a stay-at-home mom.  She loves fueling the imaginations of her children with creativity, songs, all things science, good food and lots of play indoors and out.  She blogs at Pepper Sprout Home and you can also find her on Instagram. 


Hope in the Shadows
May 26, 2017 In Health & Nutrition Tender Topics 6 Comments

For the month of May, Kindred Mom is covering the following topics: Feeling Inadequate, Sleep-Rest-and-Rejuvenation, and Mental Health Awareness Month. We hope you’ll return to read the wonderful essays we have to share with you and cheer on the courageous mamas who have shared them.

If you haven’t listened yet, we’d love for you to check out the new Kindred Mom Podcast! 


When I think about the topic of mental health, I’m reminded of that hilarious Bob Newhart clip in which a woman enters his office seeking psychological help. Bob initially responds in his typical deadpan humor then yells to his patient, “Stop it!” She is stunned by his calloused approach to her legitimate struggles and leaves his office more confused and discouraged than when she arrived.

Have you ever been given similar advice when you’ve sought counsel during an overwhelming season in your life? In your grief and stress, maybe you’ve turned to a friend for perspective and she flippantly replies, “Don’t worry. God has a reason for it. I’m sure it’ll all work out!” While those words may be true, they offer little more than a Band-Aid to our gaping wounds. Those oversimplified, cliché answers often leave us feeling unheard, devalued, and isolated.

In my nearly 40 years of life, I have battled depression (post-partum and depressive disorder) a handful of times. I didn’t want to feel like the world was caving in on me, crushing any hope of my circumstances improving but I felt powerless to move forward. I couldn’t just “stop it”, as if depression were some magical switch I could control on a whim. Something was broken in my ability to choose joy and find hope. Jesus seemed aloof, watching me struggle from a distance but with no real concern for the deep sadness that plagued me.

When life feels overwhelming and sad, these are 5 tools that have helped me through the shadows to a place where I can recognize truth and begin my journey toward a healthier way of being.

1. Be honest. I had to admit that I wasn’t “fine”. I needed help in addressing the negative thought patterns that ran circles in my mind. Those who knew and loved me could no longer provide the necessary help. Life felt inescapably sad and stifling. I struggled with ongoing hurt and guilt that required a new way of thinking. Owning my need for help meant risking further vulnerability but it also meant I was one step closer to freedom from the crushing dark.

2.  Call a (trusted) doctor. Sometimes a simple phone call can help with the chemical part of depression. I was at my son’s appointment when his pediatrician said, “So, when are you coming to see me? You aren’t the same vibrant person I met 10 months ago.” I was stunned by her direct approach but that’s exactly what I needed to finally address my overwhelming stress and grief. She encouraged me to consider an antidepressant to help with the probable chemical imbalance. I used to feel shame in taking an antidepressant; I felt like I was being judged for my lack of faith in God to heal me without medication. But that’s faulty thinking. While God’s grace is enough for our needs, He can and does use medication to help us on the road to healing.

3. Find a good counselor/therapist. My doctor referred me to a therapist who specializes in overachieving women who struggle with burnout. (Can you believe that’s an actual thing?) Counseling helped me to process my thoughts and experiences in a safe place, where a trusted guide pointed me to the truth. She gave me time and space to face the deeper issues and gain a better understanding of my life and heart and what God was doing in both. Counseling gave me practical strategies to accept the truths I already knew and to move forward in them.

4. Sleep. Sometimes sleep is the best anti-depressant. I’m learning to turn off the screens an hour before bedtime, read a good book, and go to bed earlier.

5. Focus on the truth. The truth is that God is with us, delights in us, and created us to thrive in using our gifts to serve Him. Daily journaling, intentional times of quiet, cultivating authentic friendships, and listening to good music have all encouraged me to focus on what is true.

I don’t know what you’re facing in this season of life but hope and help are possible. If you’re overwhelmed with sadness, paralyzed by stress or grief and unable to “stop it”, make time to address your pain and struggles. Maybe it’s time to be honest, call your doctor, find a good counselor, get some sleep, and focus on the truth.

Have you struggled with depression in motherhood? What tools have helped you to move through the shadows?

 Katie Carper is a recovering people-pleaser with a strong sense of justice and a deep desire to include the excluded. She’s grateful for coffee, laughter, and this adventurous life with her husband and 4 kiddos. You can find her at katiecarper.com where she blogs about community, faith, adoption, and special needs with hope, humor, and a good dose of snark. She also shares snippets of her life on Instagram. 

 


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